


I watch you spin around in your highest heels

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys in Skirts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-16
Updated: 2008-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: The club's music was buzzing in her chest, the night's alcohol burning in her blood, the swirling dance of twisting light show smearing intermittent pink, blue, purple over what she was seeing, but what she was seeing was still their high school class-clown Nick Carter, wearing lollypop lick-me-pink lipstick and a spaghetti strap satin - Christina's eyes flickered down to check she'd got this right - dress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _I watch you spin around in your highest heels_ for [](http://elixj.livejournal.com/profile)[**elixj**](http://elixj.livejournal.com/) for [this request](http://community.livejournal.com/fic_requests/202879.html) at [](http://fic-requests.livejournal.com/profile)[**fic_requests**](http://fic-requests.livejournal.com/). Thank you to [](http://catviret.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://catviret.livejournal.com/)**catviret** for the late night nudge for more.

Christina tossed her hair, turning her head to yell something sharp and vicious at the gaggle of frat-boys catcalling from the bar, and stumbled on alcohol loosened ankles.

Lance was right there to catch her, broad shoulders and margarita smiles, and the thought that this could be a symbol for their whole friendship had a fraction of a second to flash across her mind before the pair of them lurched into the person next to Lance, who shoved back, already cursing as they turned to face each other.

"Sorry! Sorry, ma … Nick?" Lance's automatic apologies turned into incredulity, and Christina caught herself blinking.

The club's music was buzzing in her chest, the night's alcohol burning in her blood, the swirling dance of twisting light show smearing intermittent pink, blue, purple over what she was seeing, but what she was seeing was still their high school class-clown Nick Carter, wearing lollypop lick-me-pink lipstick and a spaghetti strap satin - Christina's eyes flickered down to check she'd got this right - dress.

Christina tightened her grip on Lance's upper arm. High school was years ago, and Nick had been far from the worst kid in their class, but he hadn't been above making the odd faggot joke, back in the day.

"Lance? Oh, my God - Christina?"

The three of them stood, a frozen moment in the middle of the heat and heaving of the crowd, and it didn't feel real. Nick's slinky gunmetal dress fluttered around smooth, muscled thighs, which drew her eye down, over bunched calves to a pair of fuck-me heels that rivaled Christina's own. His streaked blond hair was an artful tangle of spikes that was both unisex and sexy

"Nick?" she said, voice halfway between wonder and disbelief. He looked so different now, but at the same time … She had to reach out and touch, fingertips dancing for a second over the heat of Nick's exposed collarbone, coming to rest on a tanned upper arm. He was taller than Lance, taller than she remembered; broader, too, and unmistakably masculine despite the outfit. She could see the dorky, uncoordinated, slightly-desperate kid she'd grown up with like a tracing paper echo lined up over this confident, provocative, sexy club character. "Shit, Nick, you grew up pretty."

"I could say the same thing, 'Tina. Man, you too, Lance. Wow, this is-" Nick waved one manicured hand to finish off the sentence, long French-polished nails contrasting with strong male hands. He leaned into Christina, speaking over the music. "You want to go somewhere quieter to catch up?"

"Lance?" Christina turned to pass on the invitation, and caught just a glimpse of what Lance was thinking before his mask clicked back into place. He looked a little shell shocked, a little jealous, a touch confused, more than a little hungry.

"Sure." He shrugged, all casual acceptance. "Nick - we were just leaving. Do you want to come get a coffee with us?"

Nick's eyes flickered between them - probably trying to work out if they were still fag-and-fruitfly, or if things had changed since Christina and Lance had escorted each other to their graduation prom - and then Nick smiled, wide and dazzling. "Cool."

The cool rush of night air as they stumbled down the club's stairs went straight to Christina's head, making her dizzy, the world all super-saturated colours and impossibilities. She didn't even remember what she said, but both Lance and Nick chuckled, and then caught each other's eyes and started flat out laughing, Lance's laughter low and rich, Nick's unexpectedly high pitched, which just made her giggle even more, holding her arms out and turning in circles under the unnatural starlight of the streetlights. It felt like flying, the three of them laughing, and grit crunching under her heels, and the throb of bass from the club fading into the background.

It felt like flying, and like coming home, and like the start of something.


End file.
